


FML

by mithrel



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Blanket Permission, Chuck as God, Gen, Podfic Welcome
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2010-08-20
Updated: 2010-08-20
Packaged: 2017-11-11 08:59:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 528
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/476832
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mithrel/pseuds/mithrel
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When the revelation comes he figures all the alcohol he drinks and having the Apocalypse playing out in 3D surround sound in his head has finally cracked him completely.</p>
            </blockquote>





	FML

When the revelation comes he figures all the alcohol he drinks and having the Apocalypse playing out in 3D surround sound in his head has finally cracked him completely.

He’s remembering things now, things he’s done. Conversations he’s had with Joshua, some of them recently, while he was asleep. _Resurrecting Castiel._ Clearly, he’s gone crazy. Lots of authors end up with a God complex.

Not many of them think they’re _actually_ God.

Yeah, he must have gone insane. Because he can’t be remembering the things he’s remembering. Like being there, in the alternate future, but not fixing things since Dean needed to see it to stop the Apocalypse. Like _casting Lucifer out of Heaven._

He groans. He can’t even tell anyone about this–they’d send him straight to the funny farm. Hell, even Becky would think he’s lost it.

Fuck.

Becky.

Because it’s starting to seep in now, on a visceral level, the fact that he’s apparently God.

And he’s going to have to break up with her.

It’s not fair. He was happy with how things were…OK, well maybe not _happy,_ since his life kinda sucks, but he was dealing. The books were selling, despite the fact that he’s a crappy writer, he had a girlfriend and people who looked up to him…or, OK, maybe he needed a stronger word than that, but whatever.

And now he finds out that everything, his whole _life,_ is part of an identity he created to make sure things turned out right. Not according to the prophecy, but _right._ And there’s no one he can even complain to because, hey, he’s the supreme authority.

He could stay, of course. See the Apocalypse through to the end–which is getting closer–and then stay here on Earth as a human. But Heaven’s been in disorder without him, and he needs to do something about it.

He decides not to worry about it for now. He’s still got some time to decide. Dean’s hopeless, having learned that God won’t help. Chuck doesn’t _think_ he’ll say yes, but it’s possible. If he does, Chuck’s relationship problems will be the least of his worries.

He could look ahead and see how it ends, of course. But the Winchesters have a habit of screwing with destiny, whatever Zachariah and Michael might say, and there have been something like six possible futures in the last three months.

It’s a kinda off-putting, not knowing what’s going to happen. Even if he was just a prophet, he should know–he always had before. But there are too many possibilities now.

He ponders again what to do about Becky. Whatever happens, he’s not going to be able to stay with her. And he can’t suddenly break it off for no reason. He’ll have to start finding things to complain about, like her ridiculous insistence that Sam and Dean are in love, or the fact that she still has a thing for Sam herself.

Yeah, he can do that.

It’ll suck, but he can do it.

He sighs, rummages for a bottle of whiskey and tips some of it down his throat. What had he done to deserve this?


End file.
